Amy Kehoe's Page

A long time ago, when I was in a mixed up crazy relationship that an unmovable force kept me in — that, and the smell of his neck — I did a Nancy Reagan. I consulted a psychic.

I went at the insistence of my friend, David. David is fluent in the universal language of the stars. After comparing birth charts, he urged me to get out of my rocky relationship with Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights because “his Saturn is sitting right on your sun!”

Translation? Heathcliff and I could not avoid a “pa… Continue

Fourth graders at my son’s elementary school conduct their own progress report conferences. They prepare for weeks and it would appear that they are getting graded on how convincing they are at being a CEO, judging by how take charge Vincent was. I did the very best Mature Mom I could muster. I didn’t want to embarrass him. He is silly at home, but when he is out he is all business. I have learned that about him and work very hard at playing along. Although, sometimes, like at this conference, I… Continue

One grocery aisle over, something heavy hit the floor with a boom. Glass broke, liquid spilled. The store was buzzing with Sunday afternoon shoppers and the aisles were crowded. Thanksgiving Eve crowded or night before a storm crowded. So the silence that fell, after the sound of…I don’t know…a loaded grocery cart tipping over, was just as interesting as the crash.

I was expecting to hear voices. Either an “Are you all right?” or a “Help!” or “How did that entire shelf fall!?” Something. Some k… Continue

In the neighborhood I moved to my second year out of college, a sublet was easier to find than a studio apartment. I sat in a diner booth and circled classifieds in the “room for rent” column of The Ann Arbor News, called each number and was able to line up four apartments in one afternoon. All of which were in walking distance to the ad agency where I’d begin work in one week. I still had to drive three states away to get my furniture and drive it back in a U-Haul. That didn’t leave much wiggle… Continue

I found an old crush from elementary school. I didn’t find him on Facebook. I did it the old-fashioned way. I road my bike passed his house seven times a day until one day he finally came out to get his mail and I said, “Warren? Warren Beatty? Fancy meeting you here!”

Okay. Not really. That’s the OLD old-fashioned way. I internet stalked and I found my first Asian crush with the famous American actor’s name when I was doing research for a manuscript I was writing. I was hovering over a very cha… Continue